


Not Ready

by 401



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anger, Angst, Arguing, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Crying, Hydra, M/M, Protective Steve, Suicidal Thoughts, breakdown - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 16:15:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4528647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/401/pseuds/401
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky disappears for three day, taking on the last know Hydra scientists who were involved in his capture. When he returns, he and Steve clash. Steve did not know how much Bucky was hurting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Ready

**Author's Note:**

> TW suicidal thoughts

They did not argue often, but when they did, it was always like this. Steve’s protectiveness would clash in a flurry of sparks with the reckless streak so deeply carved into Bucky’s personality. He had always had it, but before the war, in Brooklyn, it had manifested itself if bar fights and late night escapades, whiskey and cigarettes, all things whose side effects could be obliterated with a few stitches and an aspirin. Now, since Hydra, Bucky’s feats of extreme disregard for his health we climbing in severity at a pace that made Steve feel helpless. He was not ready to lose Bucky again.

 

Bucky had been gone for three days.

Now, he was sitting opposite Steve at the kitchen table, explaining the plethora of bruises and cuts that littered his flesh arm, neck and shoulder. The sleeve of his compression top had been torn clean off.

“You disappeared in the middle of the night,” Steve said flatly, “I woke up and you were gone, do you have _any_ clue what that did to me?”  


Bucky did not respond. He was staring at his hands, clasped together in front of him on the table. His jaw was tense with anger and embarrassment and his eyes were rimmed with impending tears. He knew. He’d felt that. Shame curdled in his chest.

“Buck?” Steve tried to meet Bucky’s eye, “You’re just gonna’ sit there?”

Steve was not as angry as he sounded. Truthfully, he was just happy Bucky was home. He didn’t want to shout at him. He wanted to hold him and kiss him until he forgot how much fear he had felt over the last three days, but the need for answers sent Steve’s incredibly sensitive moral compass into overdrive.

Bucky had gone after the few Hydra scientists left in the US. It had been a nightmare and flashback fuelled rage that had encouraged him, and as far as Steve could tell, he had succeeded in his self-appointed mission.

The aftermath was bleak and infuriating. Bucky was struck with the usual numbness that followed a peak of emotion. All of his walls went up.

“You don’t need revenge, James!” Steve shouted, riled by Bucky’s lack of reaction, “You need to recover and throwing yourself into combat is the opposite of what you need.”

Bucky shook his head.

“Don’t pretend you know how I feel, Steve,” Bucky’s voice was low and quiet. Not ominously, but broken and effortless.

Regardless, the blow hit Steve like a bullet.

“What, you think that was smart? Going out there like some god-damned vigilante?” Steve edged closed to Bucky, around the table until he was standing next to the dishevelled soldier.

“You could have gotten yourself _killed_ Bucky,” Steve’s said slowly, forcing eye contact, “Is that what you want?”

Bucky’s jaw twitched with tension.

“Answer me!” Steve shouted, desperate.

The Captain jumped back as Bucky shot up, tipping the table with his metal hand. It skidded before knocking into the wall, denting the plaster.

“YES!” Bucky yelled. His face was flushed and his hands were trembling by his sides.

The attack of fury was sudden, even for Bucky. The abruptness of it stopped Steve from actually absorbing the answer for a brief moment. When it did, the anger drained from Steve almost instantly, replaced with straight shock and concern.

“Yes that’s exactly what I wanted,” Bucky’s voice had lost its control.

It was catching in his throat, clogged by the hot tears that were running down his face, into the grazes and cuts. The salt stung.

“Why?” Steve whispered. He dropped his shoulders, passive and unthreatening.

Bucky rubbed his hands over his face, bouncing on his toes lightly with anxiety and frustration.

“It’s so hard,” Bucky sobbed fully, “It’s so _fucking_ painful,” He ran his hand back though his hair, scraping too hard.

“Everything about me, Steve. They took me apart and gave me this piece of SHIT!” He gestured bitterly at his left arm, the metal was gulled with dried blood.

“I want this to _end.”_

Steve let out the breath he had been holding for the length of the outburst.

“I don’t want to be _this_ anymore,” Bucky choked out, looking at the thrown table up against the wall.

“I don’t wanna’ lose you, Buck” Steve’s vice was tight with tears. His throat ached with the force of holding them back.

More sobs rocked silently through Bucky’s body as he half-stumbled forward into Steve. Steve wrapped his arms around him, holding him to his chest as tight as he could without disturbing the cuts on his arm.

“Promise me, Bucky,” Steve almost mouthed, “Promise me you won’t…”

Bucky shook his head against Steve’s neck, squeezing the captain’s biceps harder, like we was holding on to stop himself floating away or sinking through the floor. The strength under his tense hands was all that was stopping him giving up completely. An anchor.

“I’m tired, Stevie,” Bucky croaked dryly, “I’m sorry.”

Steve shushed the apology, stroking the back of Bucky’s head, untangling the dark tendrils with his fingertips. Bucky’s breathing started to slow, hitching intermittently in short hiccups. Steve started to step backwards, still holding Bucky until they were at the couch. He sat down, guiding the tear-stained soldier so he could rest his head on his lap. He tucked a wisp of hair that was sticking to Bucky’s hot, damp cheek behind his ear.

“I know you’re tired, Buck,” Steve sighed, “But I’m not ready for the end of the line.”  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
